


Fishing For The Stars

by Recluse



Category: Tsuritama
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recluse/pseuds/Recluse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It makes Natsuki want to reach out and shake him by the shoulders, tell him that while Haru is gone, he is here, and he will always be here. He will always be here when he needs him, that he'll try his damn best to be, no matter what."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fishing For The Stars

The boat lights seem to make the waters around them glow, turn transparent, and no matter how dim he makes them, the glow stays, tints the water a murky green. Further away the water looks dark, deep blue, but when the moonlight hits it there are flashes of fluorescent color, bright splotches in between dark spots that make the sea look like something out of a painting. Silver flashes of fish appear and disappear in seconds. But he isn't paying attention to that.

He isn't paying attention to any of it, not this time. This time being here isn't for himself, to see the light scatter across waves without anyone else, without being seen, without being judged.

This time, it's for Yuki.

Yuki, who at the moment sits next to him, staring at the waves with a sort of enchanted smile, if Natsuki was any good with words. His eyes are wide and bright, and Natsuki is suddenly thankful for the sea.

"Night fishing is different, don't you think?" He asks, casting his line. It slices through the water without much of a splash, he leans his rod against the railing. Night fishing takes a lot more patience, that's the beauty and the curse of it, really. It gives him time to think.

Yuki turns to look at him, nods excitedly. "It's pretty. Really pretty! I've never seen anything like this."

He casts, the line shivers in the light before hitting the water. Natsuki pretends to watch it, leans against the railing next to his rod and glances in Yuki's direction. Waits for the inevitable sigh.

And it comes, slight, the droop returns to Yuki's shoulders when he sits down. Natsuki sits next to him.

The silence is an opener, Natsuki knows. He can't say anything until Yuki does.

"...I wonder how Haru is." Yuki mumbles.

Natsuki still doesn't say anything. Mulls over his options.

He ignores his dry throat, ignores the squeeze of his heart. Right now isn't about him. Right now is about what Yuki thinks about, which is Haru, right now is about easing a loss. Right now he can't say what he wants to say, because that wouldn't be fair, that'd be selfish and stupid. So instead he turns and says, "He's probably wondering the same thing, except about you," and wants to shoot himself in the foot, because in a metaphorical sense he already is.

Yuki smiles, sort of. It's more of a curve to the edge of his mouth, not really a smile of any degree but something that could certainly get there with the right motivation. It makes Natsuki want to reach out and shake him by the shoulders, tell him that while Haru is gone, he is here, and he will always be here. He will always be here when he needs him, that he'll try his damn best to be, no matter what.

But that's not how grief works. That's not how wanting works, and Natsuki knows it. It doesn't matter who else is there, because the one you want to be there isn't. No one else matters when it's like that. He knows. He knows that well.

So instead he gives him a relaxed smile, keeps his hands to himself. Stands and leans on the rail, stretches while Yuki is stares at the sea again. His thoughts are millions and millions of miles away, Natsuki can tell.

When he looks out at the sea, it's like he's a speck in the water, very small, and very alone.

//

School is bizarrely quiet without Haru. Everywhere is bizarrely quiet without Haru, there's a certain bubbly feeling that's missing at the strangest times, when he's at the pier and there's no loud, "Enoshima doooon!", when he's working at the Hemingway and no one is around to shout about their day. He's used to silence, finds it a blessing even, and yet when that startlingly empty silence comes up between him and Yuki he wishes he was more of a talker. He doesn't have that pep, there's no jump in his voice and he can see how Yuki needs it, sinks his fingernails into the counter and desperately, desperately prays that something will come up so the silence isn't so heavy. Silence shouldn't be heavy when something is missing, but nothing ever makes sense when it comes to this kind of thing.

He thinks of night fishing with Yuki again to ease the tension. Remembers how metaphorically shooting himself in the foot felt. Wonders if there's a way to dodge the bullet, decides that no, there's no way to do that while he always wants to be in Yuki's head. He can't help it, he really thinks he can't.

And so he doesn't suggest it, because he can only be so kind. It's enough to see Yuki in his room, watch him look across an empty hall and sigh, those moments when Natsuki realizes that he's never going to be on Yuki's mind like Haru is, even though he's right in front of him.

It's not fair. Nothing ever is.

//

Time is a funny thing. It can carry relief, it can carry pain. Natsuki thinks that, for loss, it does something like both at different times.

He notices that Yuki doesn't sigh as much. Notices that the droop to his shoulders only arises when something reminds him strongly of Haru, notices that Yuki smiles more, talks a little more cheerful and a little more open, a little less melancholic then before, though it's only with Natsuki that he'll talk about Haru.

He notices they lean on each other more on the train back and forth to school, notices that Yuki tells him things he wouldn't tell others, notices the way that Yuki's cheeks seem tinted pink - but he can't help but think he's starting to go crazy, that metaphorical shot in the foot has bled so much that he's hallucinating. He thinks he notices the way their hands brush against each other. The way his fingers try to catch Yuki's and how sometimes, just once and a while, they do, but only for a few seconds in time.

Time is a funny thing, and those seconds seem much too long and much too short. Natsuki thinks about night fishing again. Declines when Yuki tells him that he wishes Haru were still there.

//

The moon is high, and the same as the first time, though maybe a little more round, he thinks. He isn't too sure.

The water is still blue, the glow still tints it green. He casts, and this time it splashes. He doesn't focus on it.

Yuki does the same, and for a few minutes they stare at the sea, Natsuki leaning against the railing, Yuki standing, lightly gripping the fishing rod. The waves shimmer tonight, and there are a few thin clouds that try to black out the moon, strand them both in darkness, where the glow of the boat is the only light. He looks at the green tinted water.

"Hey, Natsuki." Yuki says.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think that Haru is happy? Wherever he is?"

He closes his eyes. "Yeah. I think he is."

When he opens them again he looks at Yuki, who is staring at him with a certain look. It seems like he's watching him closely, trying to figure something out.

Yuki turns back to the sea, hands on the railing and murmurs, "Then I'm happy."

And slowly, carefully, Natsuki inches his own hand closer until the sides of their fingers touch. It's not easing a loss anymore, this time Natsuki can be selfish, this time he looks at Yuki and notes that instead of a droop it's a stiffness. He can feel his finger burn, and so he reaches a little further, sees if Yuki wants what he's been wanting, and when Yuki's pinkie twines around his he turns, pulls Yuki's face towards him with both hands and kisses him gently, because at that moment he feels certain and thinks yes, Yuki does.

When Yuki pulls back and looks at him, startled, Natsuki thinks he's made a terrible mistake.

He turns to the sea and rambles, almost incoherently, trying to save the sinking ship he threw himself upon. His words stumble over each other and get lost in the frenzy, jumping from one thing to the next without flow.

"Sorry." He says. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that, I- It was- I know how you feel about Haru being gone, and this is kind of ridiculous but I thought that it'd be nice, to be always on your mind like he is, and I- I kept thinking that, until this happened, and you don't have to respond or anything like that if you don't want to, I don't mind."

He hates the fact he sounds nervous. Hates the fact that he is nervous, and hates the long silence even more. His grip on the rail tightens until his hands feel numb. The water is still shimmering, the clouds have long since passed, slivers of silver are present in the distance, and he doesn't notice any of it. He can barely breathe, each passing second his hands become number.

When Yuki reaches for his hand he looks down in disbelief first. Then he looks up, and something is barely meeting the corner of his mouth, his vision is full of red hair and everything is blindingly beautiful. The sea and the stars and the silvery line, the murky underwater glow.

//

Night fishing has become a habit between them. They sit side by side, watching the waves, and sometimes their hands meet and their fingers fall together. Sometimes they talk about stupid, mindless things and other times they sit in silence, and sometimes, when the moon is blocked out and the dim light of the boat glows around them, they'll let their lips meet, short to long kisses and foreheads touching.

From a certain point, when the stars reflect on the water and their lines are cast, it seems as if they're fishing for the stars.


End file.
